


bitch better have my money

by pittoo



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: ....crack...?, Multi, don’t take it seriously please, findom mammon, some kind of au or something idk, that’s right you heard me, theyre british for immersion reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pittoo/pseuds/pittoo
Summary: i haven't posted on this website in 3 years and this is all i have to offer you now
Relationships: Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	bitch better have my money

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday rudy! i hope you hate it!
> 
> (sorry the tense changes so much it’s the one thing I struggle to keep consistent and I don’t think I have the willpower to proofread this properly and fix it)

It was early on a Friday morning that it happened.

You’d been hard at work all week, the deadlines for numerous projects - like the meteor upon the dinosaurs - descending rapidly upon you as the academic year came to it’s natural close. You’d be hard-pressed to be convinced to allow so much as a fleeting thought of multinational groceries and general merchandise retailers cross your mind ever again; this project was kicking your mind, soul, and sleep schedule in their collective ass. 

Coffee had become your salvation. Any would normally do - a shitty little home-brewed Americano was enough to satiate your caffeine cravings on a good day - but, fuck it, it was the end of the week, your final business project was making you sad, and you were going to splurge what little money you had left on Starbucks.

So there you were - stood, tucked into your hoodie so as to avoid being perceived or otherwise put into a situation - perusing the menu on the wall at your local Starbucks. Perusing the menu was mostly just a formality at this point, really, there’s only two real options - you know you’ll either get a can of doubleshot Espresso or if you’re feeling really fancy you might get a Chococino to enjoy sat at a _table_ god forbid - but whatever you choose in the last second is between your future self and God. Anything is an improvement over the sad, watery concoction you’ve come to almost ironically enjoy.

All in all, it’s your typical, run of the mill Starbucks experience. You’ve long lost hope for achieving your romantic coffee-shop AU romantic trope dreams, but that’s all okay. You rattle off your last second impulse order with a practiced ease and confidence, mentally checking off the steps of the procedure; smile and greet, yep, make your order, yep, make that smile a sad one when you hear the price, yep, reach into your back pocket for you wallet and -

Ah, fuck, you’d done it again. No wallet. You _really_ hadn’t wanted to get into a situation today. 

“Ah, fuck,” you said, despondently glancing at the paper cup that had already been christened as your own. The awkward misspelling stared back, taunting like a siren’s song. “No wallet. Sorry about that.”

You were ready to concede to being late to class - it’d mean sprinting home to grab something, but late with caffeine is better than on time without - when an arm flashed quick as lightning across your front and onto the counter. Your brain was slow to process the familiar ‘beep’ of the contactless card machine.

”Don’t worry about it.” You turned to meet the eyes of your... hero? Unfortunate benefactor? Possible new enemy? Whichever category he falls into, he looked just as surprised as you were. His arm was still across your front, unfortunately close and kind of awkward; close enough that you could almost make out the colour of his eyes behind his polarised glasses.

You’d usually consider it fortunate that the Barista barely registered the encounter, but you found yourself missing their soothing presence when they departed to process your order. You’ve played through many possible Starbucks situations in your mind in your spare time, prepared for many eventualities, but the one where you knew how to deal with a white-haired stranger with indoor shades sniping you to pay for your Starbucks coffee was conveniently missing from your mind catalogue.

“Uhh... Thank you?” Usually you wouldn’t mean to frame gratitude as a question but this time it actually seems appropriate. 

It takes the guy some time to compose himself. You briefly wondered if slapping his credit card down is actually some kind of Pavlovian response; it didn’t seem like he’d meant to do it. ”Hey, uh! No problem!” He flashed you a wide, albeit awkward and crooked, smile. “You looked like you needed a hand, so, y’know...” 

He didn’t seem to know.

”Sorry,” you started, sliding awkwardly down the counter to wait for your conveniently paid for beverage. “I can’t really pay you back, or anything.”

He hesitated at the register, gaze following you, only snapping away when the barista returns to take his order. Good for him, at least, since he already had his credit card ready and at hand. You supposed. He kept his distance when he joined you.

”Oh, nah, I don’t wanna be paid back, or anythin’.” Oh, good. That lifted whatever rock was stewing in the pit of your stomach. “I could, uh, get your number, though?” Ah... It’s back.

You put a hand against the back of your neck, purposefully avoiding his gaze while you played with the hairs there. Admittedly, Mr. Credit Card was kind of cute, in a bishounen anime boy kind of way. It wasn’t as if he seemed unfriendly, maybe a little unfortunate? You kind of want to feel sorry for him.

”I don’t really know you, so...” You opt to let him down gently, feeling the instant regret when his expression faded into something of an embarrassed sulk. “I am grateful, though! You saved my rear-end from going to class without caffeine!”

”Aha, well!” Good, that cheered him up. “Good for you that the great Mammon was here to rescue you! It’s _kind_ of what I do, y’know. Helpin’ the less fortunate and shit. Lucky for you that I got your back.” He assumes a cool-guy pose, leaning back against the counter. His elbow bumps against the sugar dispenser.

”Haha, yeah.” You let yourself think he’s a little endearing, in the way you think your little dog is endearing when you congratulate him on a good outside poo. The pride emanating from him has kind of the same vibe. “Maybe I’ll catch you again?”

”I’ll give you fifteen quid.” He suddenly blurted, whipping to look at you with the same surprise he had earlier. Uh, what? “Y’know! To get us both coffee. If we see each other again, I mean, y’know, not now.” 

You barely registered the barista calling your name, almost dropping your coffee in the haphazard exchange you shared with them. Uh, what?

”Or you don’t hafta see me or anythin’,” He fumbled in his pockets as he spoke, patting his ass pockets frantically with a muttered curse, before finally and triumphantly pulling his wallet back out. There’s notes held against your face before you’ve even started to process what he was trying to communicate to you. “Just - take it, jeez!”

”I-“ In all your years on this Earth you have never been in this kind of situation. On the one hand, you’re being offered money with - seemingly - no strings attached, which is epic, but on the other hand, like literally what the fuck. “If you just want someone to hang out with I don’t need to get paid for it.”

Being paid to hang out sounds kind of cool when you think about it. You remind yourself you don’t know the dude.

”What? I’m real fuckin’ popular, actually, I’ve got like a million pals practically linin’ up for a piece a’ me.” His genuine confusion at your comment momentarily incapacitated you. “I just _really_ wanna give ya fifteen quid. Nothin’ else to it.” 

How is there nothing else to it? ...Well, he made a compelling enough argument, and if all else failed and he tried to blackmail you or something you had the barista as your witness. There’s a substantial number of chicken nuggets promised within fifteen pounds. And a chocolate milkshake, if you’re feeling cheeky.

”Well - thank you!” He looks astonishingly pleased for someone that just no strings attached tossed money at a stranger, but you decide you’re done questioning it. “Maybe I’ll see you again?” 

The satisfaction emanating from his face is overwhelming. He’s peculiar, sure, but if you’re going to get an income from interacting with anyone...

* * *

  
You actually did end up seeing him again.

Mammon is a pretty cool guy, when you don’t have a class to get to and the time to sit at a table and chat with him. He’s almost too happy to toss money at you, regularly financing your caffeine addiction, and he won’t tell you exactly _why_ he has so much cash to blow on you, but, at least he’s not as weird as he could be. Given the circumstances, anyway. You think he just wants a friend, and maybe doesn’t know how to make friends without throwing money at the problem? You’re not sure, since he’s kind of stingy outside of talking with you. 

“And then, my kid brother was like, dude, I wasn’t the last to use the devil sauce, I gave it to you? And I was like, bro, buddy, man, there’s only one tool in this household dumb enough to put th’ devil sauce back in the cupboard when it’s empty, and that tool ain’t me.” You had no idea what he was talking about, but nod along sympathetically anyway. “And I _still_ get shit for it, ‘cause being the second oldest means I gotta be like, responsible, or some shit? How’s that fuckin’ fair. I don’t even like devil sauce.”

”That’s so sad.” You grabbed another nugget from the 20-piece share box. “It must suck having so many brothers. And they all sound like such horrible little bastards.”

”They _are_ horrible little bastards.” Mammon huffs, slumping back into his chair. He’s indulged in a few nuggets himself, so you don’t feel the usual guilt from letting him pay for it. “No reason for it. You’d think I did somethin’ to piss ‘em off, but I never do anything wrong, ever. Nothin’ but nice to their ungrateful asses. You know how much they owe me?”

You hum your assent. You’d been getting the impression he needed a friend to talk to, more than anything, and decided you would be it (for some reason). It felt a little like a job, sometimes, but in a kind of cool and casual way, where he didn’t actually ask for anything out of you. Besides finally exchanging phone numbers, but that wasn’t as bad as you thought, either. He mostly just tells you all about how awful his six brothers are, and really, with six brothers, you can kind of imagine why.

”My life is harder than anyone else’s.” He laments. You nod solemnly. 

It doesn’t feel like any kind of arrangement, really. Not formally, and you haven’t told anyone about it - how would you even explain? It would totally sound like you had a sugar daddy, but you decided (more for peace of mind than anything) that you’re pretty sure a sugar daddy wouldn’t just be buying you chicken nuggets. He never gives you more than what you’re trying to pay for, so it’s not so much ‘making a profit’ as it is ‘free nugget and good company’.

You just happen to have a new suspiciously wealthy friend who doesn’t mind paying for your nuggets, which sounds much better and much less like a kink thing.

He doesn’t usually let comfortable silences occur - he speaks enough for seven, which is unsurprising - but, for once, you’ve entered one. He looks thoughtful, both of you watching the same pigeon eat a fry off the pavement in silent appreciation. Nature is beautiful.

He was the first to break the quiet. ”Hey. Can I ask you to do somethin’?” 

”Yeah, sure! What is it?” You don’t take your eyes off the pigeon, even when he takes a moment to clear his throat. It‘s one of those cute reddish-brown ones.

“I was thinkin’ that maybe...” His sudden awkwardness tells you he‘s about to say something about money; it’s just about the only thing that transmorphs him into the closest approximation of ‘shy’ you think he can emote. You don’t know why it makes him so fidgety, but at least it gave you the warning you needed to turn your attention back to him. “Instead’a me offerin’, you could try askin’ me?”

You blinked, slowly. “For... money?” 

He nodded. 

”You want me... to ask you... for money.” He‘s looking everywhere ahead of him but at you, his continued nodding slow and deliberate. There’s a monumental effort going into looking cool and casual, you can tell, but his fingers tap on the table anxiously. 

”Yup.” The ‘p’ pops. “An’ maybe be a little rude about it? You don’t hafta! But y’know. Just a little mean. Might be cool to try.”

You struggle to register his words. He looks like he wants to disappear.

The realisation slams into you like a lorry; maybe this is a little bit of a kink thing.

”I don’t really need any though,” You opt for honesty. “I mean, it’s nice! No arguments, even though it’s kind of weird and all, and you’re cool and I like hanging out with you, so it’s not like I mind, but...” 

“Forget I asked!” The colour of his face reaches monumental levels of red in a matter of seconds. He’s blushed at you before - you’d noticed he’d go beetroot whenever you gave even small compliments - but never to that extent. You’re kind of endeared. And he wants you to be _mean_ to that face? After you’ve already compared him to your sweet little dog? “Ugh, damn, never mind, totally forget I said shit - and don’t look at me like that, ya’ got a problem with my face or somethin’?!”

”No,” you start, as totally not affected as you can muster. “I’m just-“

”Please don’t bring it up again.” His face ends up pressed on the table, shielded pathetically by his arms. 

It’s definitely a kink thing.

* * *

  
**YOU:** i need a fiver for bus fare 

**YOU:** stinky

 **YOU:** loser

 **MAMMON:** Am I some kind of joke to you?

  
Truthfully, you and Mammon get on well. 

The realisation you shared was awkward, to say the least, but surprisingly it doesn’t change the dynamics of your friendship all that much. You don’t question it too much - you both, from what you can tell, get a good deal out of it, no one is particularly upset, everything is fine and good, in all honesty. He insisted it wasn’t that deep, so you elect to believe him, no matter what some unfortunate nights spent on Google might have had you believe. You don’t ask too many questions and don’t accuse him of anything, and in turn, he doesn’t seem to expect all that much out of you.

It’s definitely a weird dynamic. That’s not a question. You are not exactly well-versed in the art of interpersonal human relationships but, even so, you know this is not entirely normal. Truthfully, you don’t know what it is Mammon feels about you, only that he likes it when you make him pay for things - away from that, you’ve become textbook Normal Friends. You learn about how his brothers make him feel insecure, he learns more details of your business project than he ever would have asked. You’d worried about the give-and-take, but - astonishingly - it felt more natural the longer you knew each other.

You hang out. You get lunch. You watch movies. He visits your house and pets your dog. You don’t meet his brothers, but you aren’t sure he wants you to. If you ignore the “entirely Mammon financed” aspect it’s probably totally normal and fine.

**YOU:** well I’m not sure I can actually be that mean!

 **YOU:** your brothers are already so mean to you.

 **YOU:** and they ask for your money too.

 **MAMMON:** I don’t give it to them! It’s not the same thing at all!

 **MAMMON:** I know ya don’t mean it, so it’s fine. I keep tellin’ ya it was me that asked.

 **MAMMON:** You really don’t need to, just forget it.

 **YOU:** pwease mr mammon if u don’t pay my bus fare I won’t have any monie for chicken nugget

 **YOU:** pwease ur so funky and cool OwO

 **MAMMON:** Yeah and what else is new? >:)

 **MAMMON:** It takes far more than that to convince Mammon!

 **YOU:** grr ur so scummy grrr gimme money for the bus bark bark snarl 

**MAMMON:** Jeez, close enough.

 **MAMMON:** You think I got cash just lyin’ around for your damn bus fare?

It’s tricky to navigate what he wanted out of you, especially since he’s definitely way too embarrassed to spell it out. From what you can gather, he wants to be... Forced into giving you money? But in a roleplay sort of way? The first time he fought you about it you’d felt awful, backtracking and apologising and it was totally okay you didn’t really need to rent Trolls 2 it was just a craving please don’t stop being my friend I was really starting to like having you around. That was an odd night.

Anyway, Mammon has zero bite. He cried at cheesey romcoms just the same as everyone else. You’ve seen him give your dog a kissy on the nose. His favourite troll is Queen Poppy. 

**YOU:** ya I totally know u do.

 **YOU:** u’ll only spend it on something stupid 

**MAMMON:** The hell I would! Like what?

 **YOU:** hotel transylvania box set

 **YOU:** and u won’t even watch it ironically!

 **YOU:** adam sandler liking ass!

 **MAMMON:** Wow.

So basically, you’ve learned to have fun with it. Mammon is incredibly easy to please. No matter how monumentally stupid you behave, he stills helps you out. You never ask for much, either, so you don’t feel that bad any more as long as you at least try, for him, to participate. He doesn’t insist on any further, and the one time you tried in public he blushed and spluttered so bad that he went home; texts give you time to think, so it’s better, overall. This much is comfortable for you both.

**YOU:** anyway I need like a tenner for the bus 

**YOU:** i know u can do that much

 **YOU:** and u will! or else....

 **MAMMON:** The bus ain’t that much!

 **MAMMON:** Or else what?!

 **YOU:** or else......................

 **MAMMON:** What???

 **YOU:** or ELSE.....................

 **YOU:** (i didn’t think that far ahead)

 **MAMMON:** (Don’t worry about it.)

 **MAMMON:** C’mon, don’t go that far...

 **MAMMON:** I ain’t made a’ money!

 **YOU:** sounds like a you problem 

You’re really, monumentally bad at being mean, especially since you really don’t mean it. Plus, you know he hears this from his brothers a lot - that much he’s told you, but he’s always assuring you that “it’s okay when you do it” sooo... Fine, you think?

**YOU:** i know u have ur ~ways~

 **YOU:** you will do it for me

 **YOU:** not like ur good for much else

 **YOU:** (that felt mean. too far?)

 **MAMMON:** (No no, that was good)

Like you said, totally weird. You’re pretty sure this is not a typical friend favour, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have fun doing it. It was just like the homestuck roleplays of your youth. You could dust off that old Karkat living in your brain for a friend.

**MAMMON:** Ugh - okay, fine, but you’re only gettin’ five outta me!

 **YOU:** seven fifty

 **YOU:** papa needs a morning kitkat

 **MAMMON:** Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec.

* * *

  
“Is there a reason for it?” 

Mammon took a large bite from his burger, watching sadly as the filling slowly dripped from the other end. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “Reason for what?”

You idly stir your chocolate milkshake. He doesn’t usually want to talk about it if you ask directly, so you try a different angle this time. “You didn’t need to buy me lunch today. I got groceries yesterday.”

His brow raised. “And let you starve? I ain’t once once, in all this time, like six months, seen you eat a lunch of any description, so y’really expect me to believe fresh lettuce is gonna convince ya to wake up early enough to make a sandwich?”

He’s got you there. “Okay, fair play. But you don’t have to take me _out_ for lunch so much.”

”What,” He finally turns his attention from burger to you, “because fast food is suddenly me treatin’ you to a hot and sexy date on the town? We always hang out here. Are the calories botherin’ you?“

You poke your empty nugget box with your index finger. “Maybe.”

”Well stop it. Y’look fine.” He looks back down, contorting his arm to lick it where some ketchup had dripped onto his wrist. The indirect approach, clearly, was failing you.

”I know it’s not much money,” You try again, “but don’t all these.. uh... gifts? Is that what you’d call it? Don’t they add up?”

His gaze snaps back up, in that startled way it always does when you mention the Money word. “I keep telling you,” he hisses, looking around as though one of his brothers would spring out and announce he’s been Punked at any second. “If ya don’t like it, I’ll just stop. Please don’t make it weird.”

It’s already sort of weird, but you know if you say that he might shrivel up and die on the spot. He’s fragile, like a gentle and innocent lamb. He doesn’t deserve to become a raisin. “I just feel bad you don’t get anything out of it? I’d still be your friend if you didn’t let me use your Netflix and Disney+ subscriptions. I would be sad losing 24/7 access to the entire Air Bud film series, but you’re more important to me than Space Buddies will ever be.”

”Kinda hate it when you talk sometimes.” You get a smile out of him, at least. He knows Space Buddies is the most serious shit there is. “I _hope_ I beat out talkin’ sports dogs.”

”You definitely do.” You nod emphatically. “So, why?”

He huffs, immediately dropping his smile. “I keep tellin’ ya, it’s not a _thing_. You’re my pal, an’ I can afford to help ya out.”

”We weren’t friends when you paid for my coffee.” You pressed on. It’s not an outright rejection of the question, so you deem it safe to continue. “And then gave me like, a tenner out of nowhere. It was super weird. And you never want to help your unemployed brothers out.”

”Fifteen, and my brothers suck major ass.” He dropped to a mumble. “I dunno, I just did it. I keep tellin’ ya that as well. Why do ya gotta push it?”

”I really don’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about!” You offer your most reassuring smile, even if he won’t look at it. “It’s kind of fun sometimes!”

He assumes the pouting expression he reserves for his Classic Tsundere Mammon moments. “Yeah, well, maybe for you, but you kinda suck at it.” He grumbles, obscuring his sulk behind the burger. 

”It’s okay, Mammon. I see it in your eyes. I know you love it when I call you stinky.” He retreats further into the sauce.

”Who’d take care of ya if I ain’t doin’ it?” He mumbles, pathetically. “You should be grateful, y’know, the great Mammon doesn’t do this shit for just anyone! Where’d ya even be if you didn’t have me around, huh?”

He’s just trying to save face and you know it.

”You’re so stinky that you owe me another box of chicken nuggets.” You shake the empty nugget carcass at him, and add a performative wink for extra spice. “Chop chop, money boy.”

“I already got you nuggets.” It’s so funny how he tries to lower his voice for it. Especially when he’s talking about nuggets. “What makes you think I will?”

”Because I won’t reply to any of your texts if you don’t and you’ll be soooooo sad. You’ll cry about it. You’ll be all lonely wondering where I went, and it’s all because you didn’t get me nuggets.” He dodges the box when you throw it at him. 

He pretends to be dramatic and annoyed when he picks up his wallet from the middle of the table. “You _better_ not start ignoring me.”

You’ll find out, one way or another, but for now, you’ll take the junk food.

* * *

  
**YOU:** Mammon, is this a kink thing?

It’s kind of funny that it’s another Friday morning when you pop the proverbial question.

You’ve known each other for nearly four months now, and you like to think you’re good enough friends to breach the topic. Considering your entire friendship is riding on the coattails of Mammon giving you money out of nowhere, you’d like to think you deserve to get an answer, eventually.

You did your soul-searching. You’d be okay with it, you think, if it was; you hope Mammon’s platonic affection for you is more sincere and significant than him using you for whatever sense of satisfaction he’s looking for, and for what is worth, you don’t doubt that part. You don’t share as many hours watching preteen shows for horse girls together as the two of you have and not feel _some_ fondness. Really, you just want to know.

**YOU:** It really is ok if it is 

**YOU:** might be polite to tell me tho 

**YOU:** bro we are consenting adults it’s ok to have a kink around me bro

 **YOU:** no don’t stop 

He isn’t replying to you. At least, you sent the texts in the morning, and it’s the evening, and you’re already in your pyjamas again. You like to prepare for the worst eventualities, so you’re binging as much Netflix prescribed anime as you can manage in case he spite changes the password.

The doorbell rings, and it’s Mammon.

”It’s kind of cliche to run to my house at midnight to confess to me.” You chide, letting him in while your dog makes every effort to ensure you know there is a person in the house. He looks pissed off. “I’d swoon, but I’m kind of sad I haven’t heard my friend tell me how cool and great he is in at least twenty four hours.”

”I am cool and great.” He doesn’t sound as pathetic as you expected, so that’s good.

”I was starting to think you’d taken your riches and fled,” you haul yourself onto the couch. “Good thing you didn’t. You are pretty cool and great.”

”If y’tell my brothers even a singular word of this I’ll be very upset.” He sits a polite, gentlemanly distance away from you, which is nothing new. 

“How would I? You won’t even let me know their phone numbers.” You kind of want to laugh at him. “Sooo... It’s a kink thing?”

”No!! I mean, kinda - I mean! maybe to _start._ ” It’s sweet he looks so worried about this conversation. You kind of think he deserves it for not telling you in the first place. “I ain’t lyin’ that I don’t know why I started, y’looked kinda pitiful and sad that day an’ all but you know I ain’t one for givin’ out precious time or money to just _anyone._ ”

”You were ready to hire a deep web hitman over fifty pence Beel owed you once,” you affirm.

”And he _still_ owes that to me! Anyways, I kinda got stuck on it, thinkin’ like shit since my brothers think they’re the hottest shit and know so much better than me what my cash is good for, even though it’s _mine_ that I earned totally legitimately.” You still don’t know what ‘totally legitimately’ means, and know better than to ask. “Cause sexy anime girl figures are _definitely_ a good use of your big brother’s bank account, _Leviathan_ , an’ you totally _don’t_ kill the resale value when y’throw the boxes away.”

”That’s truly very sad and I’m very sorry the investment in Ruri-chan was for naught,” you press him. “But what has that got to do with me?”

“You were my decision.” He looks like, by all accounts, a kicked puppy. “My brothers piss me off and take my shit without any kinda’ say from me and it sucks. They make me feel like a pile of steaming crap, like, every fuckin’ moment we share a social space, even though I’m the second oldest and they should totally show me way more respect, y’know? They’re cool an’ all mostly but it’s kinda draining to feel like...”

”They make you feel worthless?” You think you’re understanding, but you want him to find his voice himself. “And... I don’t?”

”Mfgmhm.” His mouth ends up cushioned by his knees. “I dunno why I did it and I dunno why I kept doin’ it and maybe I feel like the scum of the earth for kinda usin’ you to feel worthwhile, but you’re like the only one who was ever grateful I took time outta my busy and important life to help ‘em out and _maybe_ that felt good to be useful to even one damn person in my life.”

He’s so mean to himself. It makes you kind of sad; he hardly needs you to be doing it for him, too.

...It’s still definitely a kink thing though.

”Is me cyberbullying you meant to be sexy?” You don’t _quite_ mean to be so blunt, and the shock takes him out as well as you, but it needed to be asked. “I really like you, Mammon, but I don’t know if I’m ready to-“

”Please _please_ don’t talk any more. Please. I will get on my hands and knees and beg you if that will make you stop but I _need_ y’to know it ain’t like that!” He sounds sincere enough to be convincing, so you let yourself relax again. “I guess - I guess it fits the _description_ , like, on a purely theoretical level, y’know, textbook-wise, but I promise on my entire life I am not tryin’ to get in your pants, not that you ain’t my type or anythin’ but-“

He stops talking to compose himself. You’re being obedient and not talking any more, but if you were to speak, you think you’d tell him that was probably wise.

”I know you don’t mean it when you say that crap about me.” He finally meets your eyes again. “So it’s okay t’let you say the same shitty things they do. It’s _embarrassing_ , an’ the shit is probably true, but it’s not bad. ”

You think you finally understand. You’re not about to start signing legal documents to appease him in the name of understanding, but understand him you do. 

He flinches when you reach over, but quickly relents and lets you give him a pat on the head. You’re slow to ruffle it, and you’re rewarded with him leaning into your hand. ”I promise I won’t make you buy me sexy anime tiddie figurines.” You coo, moving to squish his cheeks instead.

”Ugh, shut up!! I know you won’t!” He swats you away, using his legs to fight you off when you retaliate with the closest cushion.

You don’t bring it up, but he knows you don’t miss the fondness in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> hey rudy I’m going to tell everyone how cool you are and how much I love you on my PUBLIC FANFICTION that I’m sharing to the WORLD (read: obey me ao3 fandom)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I was struggling to think of an epic and personal gift to create, from the heart, just for you, and I wish I could say this wasn’t the first thing to spring to my mind, but, as you can see, we are here. Even though it’s stupid, even though it’s origin story lies in a terrible joke, I hope you can feel all the love for you I poured into this Obey Me: One master to rule them all #Shall We Date? Mammon x Reader fanfiction. It’s from the heart. I cannot apologise for a gift that came from the heart. I even tried to make it cute so you couldn’t be too angry at me so I’m infallible basically
> 
> You are one of my absolute best friends in the whole world, it’s just impossible to feel anything other than pure joy and happiness and warmth when I talk to you. You are such a special person, to me and so many others - there’s a Rudy shaped hole in my heart where you’ve stolen a little piece forever. Know that you take it with you every day <3 You are simply so kind and genuine, you always know what to say to make me feel better, you are (even if begrudgingly) receptive to every horrible little thought I air directly into your direct messages. There’s no one else in the entire world like you. Bro, we are in our early 20s. I love you. I won’t ever stop bro.
> 
> I hope I can hang out with you and everyone again soon (after the whole, y’know....... health first). I’d be honoured to share a Monkey Uber with you. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Your worst nightmare,  
> Max xox
> 
> (yes this is what me and mimi were losing our shit over)


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